


My Funny Valentine

by filthy_rat



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthy_rat/pseuds/filthy_rat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts as a routine tune-up for our favorite synth detective ends in some very dirty shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Funny Valentine

“Alright, Nicky,” Nora says one day. A hot, humid summer day. Nick is currently sitting beneath a tree in Sanctuary, smoking a cigarette. Nora is carting a bucket with cleaning supplies and a tool-box. “It’s time.”

Instantly nervous, Nick’s eyes dart from side to side before settling back on Nora. He tries to play dumb. “Time? Time for what?”

“I’ve been staring at that gaping head-and-neck wound of yours for far too long and I’m getting really creeped out by it.” She wrinkles her nose and sets the cleaning bucket and toolbox in the grass beside his tree.

Nick’s internal hydraulics whir to life as he lifts a hand and gingerly touches the open places of his neck and face. It certainly doesn’t _hurt_ anymore. Why is she so concerned? He flicks the stub of his cigarette away. “...Why?”

Nora pulls an exasperated face. “Because I said so, that’s why. I just want to try and replace some of your cracked external plating, maybe clean you up a little while I’m at it.” She tilts her head to one side. “You’re not getting _shy_ on me, are you, Nicky?”

Valentine furrows his brow. “Not a chance, doll,” he mutters, and removes his hat, hoping this will suffice. Nora cocks an eyebrow. Uh oh.

“No way, josé-bot. Off with the coat as well,” she commands, hands on her hips. Nick scowls, but begrudgingly gets to his feet and shrugs out of his trench coat, draping it across a low-hanging branch of his tree. As he rolls the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, he watches her bend over and retrieve from the toolbox a gen-2 synth head from the neck up. Nick grimaces at the macabre display.

He watches as she pries off the neck and temple plates of the deactivated synth head with a screwdriver. Nick has to admit, the sight is just a little on the grisly side to him.

“Hold still,” Nora commands, pushing the spare plates into his hands as she lifts the screwdriver to his own temple.

“That’s more than a little terrifying,” Nick mutters.

“I’ll be gentle,” Nora says in a reassuring voice. Something inside Nick’s mechanical chest whirs and crackles, sending a pleasurable jolt of electricity coursing through his system. Nick frowns. That could be trouble.

Nora quickly becomes frustrated with working in such a close space, and hastily unbuttons his shirt down to his navel. Her hands brace flat against his exposed chest as she leans closer to him, warm and alive, and Nick has never felt more awkward in his life. His sensors are abuzz with activity, and he’s sure if he were human, he’d be blushing and clammy. He’s suddenly _very_ relieved for a lack of bodily functions.

As she works on loosening his plating, he takes a moment to study her features, his glowing motorized eyes taking in the details faster than a human ever could. He counts the freckles dusting her cheekbones in only 2.63 seconds. She has 29. He takes note of the faded collection of tiny scars on her chin. Acne from her adolescence. There’s an eyelash on her cheekbone. He has to resist the urge to brush it away. He wonders how she has time to apply perfect cats-eye liner every day.

He notices the blue of her eyes. Sort of a dark gray-blue, like the color of the sky during a summer storm. Another jolt of electricity sets his system alight with pleasure. Confused, Nick frowns again.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Nora says, startling him from his reverie. “You’re frowning a lot over there. More than usual,” she adds, by way of explanation.

“...I’m fine,” Nick mumbles, twitching as she at last pries the broken plating from his head. The disgusted face she makes while inspecting the dirty plating sends another shock of electricity through his system. He finds himself smiling a little. What on earth is going on? His system’s never reacted to looking at her like this before. Must be some sort of bug with his optical software. Maybe he’ll just… stop looking at her, then. Nick casts his eyes down at the synth plating in his hands, turning it this way and that absentmindedly.

“Lift your head,” Nora commands, placing two fingertips beneath his chin and pushing up to expose his neck to her screwdriver.

“Have you ever… done this before?” Nick asks, hoping that by focusing on the clouds, he can end this strange feeling in his chest. Her fingers are warm on his collarbone, though. The tiniest of electric jolts shocks his inner workings with pleasure. His fingers twitch.

“I took apart the dead one, didn’t I?” Nora says, wiggling the screwdriver up and down to pry loose the plating.

“Very reassuring,” Nick replies sarcastically. Nora giggles as she works. A slow, blissful pulse of electrical current floods his system once more, making his toes tingle. Making her laugh always did this to his system but it seems… different, somehow. Simultaneously alien and familiar. The signals his mechanical brain is sending to his sensors is almost addictive, too. The more the electrical currents flood his system, the more he wants to repeat it. Bewildered, Nick searches his memory for any similar events in the past. Fruitlessly, he searches in silence for a few seconds, but finds nothing.

“Are you alright over there, Valentine?” Nora asks at last, as she pries the remaining broken plating from his frame. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

Nick’s hesitates, and Nora can _literally see_ his mind working. A breeze ruffles his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Yeah, I’m just kind of… thinking,” Nick says evasively. Which is true. Mostly. At least this answer seems to placate her, for the time being. With the pieces of his head and neck missing, he feels much more _exposed_ now, no pun intended. He catches her staring curiously at his inner workings, trying to figure out how everything fits together and moves within him, and suddenly finds himself feeling self-conscious.

Nick shifts uncomfortably as Nora takes the new pieces from his hands and lifts them to his head. When she bites her lower lip in concentration, Nick feels that familiar whirring jolt of crackling energy fill his systems, and he subconsciously shuffles a step closer to her. If it isn’t going to go away, he might as well let it run its course. His olfactory sensors kick in. She smells of fresh daisies.

“So,” Nora mumbles thoughtfully, “it looks like the new plating just… snaps into place. Makes me wonder why we didn’t do this sooner!” She flashes him a bright smile, and Nick’s system is assaulted with even more of those pleasurable little shocks. Eventually, the positive feedback is going to overload his system and he really isn’t sure what will happen then.

Nora sets to work, snapping the replacement pieces into place, but they require more force than originally anticipated. Swearing colorfully under her breath, Nora yanks Nick’s head towards her chest, squeezing his face against her breast while she pushes on the plating with her other hand. Nick can’t move, even if he had wanted to. The warmth of her skin against his face and the feel of her heart beating within her chest has his entire body locked up, overcome with wave after wave of positive feedback. Nick squeezes his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that he’s merely laying on a sunbaked pillow...

No luck. He balls up his free hand inside his trouser pocket in an attempt to keep it from circling around her waist. The smell of daisies floods his olfactory sensors, making his pleasure receptors go haywire. He’s just about to lift his head and just kiss her when a loud snapping noise breaks the tension. The plating locks into place on the back of his head at last. Nora releases his head.

“There!” Nora says, panting from exertion. “Whew, that took some muscle. Sorry for grabbing you, Nicky,” she says, wiping sweat from her brow with her forearm.

Nick straightens almost immediately, tight-lipped and stiff, even for a synth. He must’ve looked perturbed because Nora pats him reassuringly on his bare chest.

“Don’t worry, Nicky,” Nora says, smiling that smile that has his sensors buzzing, “We’ll get you back to your handsome self in no time.”

Nick manages a quick, strained smile. Right now, his system is on fire with feedback, and if he moves any more than a few inches, it’ll be to sweep her into his arms and ravish her right beneath this tree. If he survives this, he’ll have to get a virus check. Even though he knows, in the deepest parts of his neural cortex, that this is _not_ a virus.

Nora takes the next piece of plating from his hands, her fingertips brushing against Nick’s for a brief moment. To his utter mortification, his skeletal fingertips actually _spark_ as she pulls away _._ There’s a popping sound like static electricity, and for a microsecond, the air between their fingers lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Ow!” Nora exclaims, dropping the plating on the grass and promptly popping her burnt finger into her mouth. The look on her face is nothing short of _offended._ Nick has never been more jealous of a finger in his life.

“Sorry!” Nick says in alarm, once more thanking his lucky stars that he can’t blush. “Guess I must have a short in these old digits,” he says, looking down at his skeletal hand and flexing the metallic fingers. Hopefully she’ll buy that.

“I wanted to fix your hand but I couldn’t salvage any plating from the synths I found or destroyed. Their hands were usually really worn down,” Nora says apologetically, removing her injured finger from her mouth. Gently, she cradles his skeletal hand between hers, studying the fingers and clockwork that keeps it together. The blissful currents surging through his system are nearly constant now, punctuated by sharp spikes of euphoria when her fingertips graze his palm and wrist.

“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully, eyes half-lidded as she studies his hand. “I could probably fix this, if we can scavenge the right parts from other synths,” she says.

Nick barely hears her. Right now, it’s taking all of his considerable will power to stand this far apart from her, when all he really _wants_ is to get as close to her as he can. To her 29 freckles and her perfect eyeliner and her skin that smells like daisies. It’s absolutely maddening.

She bends, retrieves the dropped plating from the grass, and straightens. Smiling that bright smile at Nick, she gestures up and he obediently lifts his chin to give her access. She lines up the plating and thankfully, this one requires much less force to lock into place. When it finally snaps, she withdraws a little, and he silently mourns the loss of contact. At least without her touch, the frenzied waves of positive feedback subside just a little.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” Nora says, and she kneels by the bucket of cleaning supplies. Nick watches her lift a soggy scrub sponge from the soapy water and wring it out before standing. When she sidles a little closer and begins swiping his dirty face-plate with the scrubber, Nick slowly closes his eyes. Sensors firing blissful pulses to his neural system, Nick allows himself to succumb to it, albeit briefly. Nora’s fingers on his cheek, holding his head in place as she wipes him clean, is almost more than he can bear.

“You alright, Valentine?” Nora asks quietly, after a few minutes of silent cleaning.

His eyes flutter open. She’s even closer now. “Please don’t stop.”

Nora’s cheeks flush, and the sight of it has his already-overloaded sensors pumping his system with even more positive feedback. She wipes the sponge across his bottom lip slowly, wiping away the dirt encrusted there, and bites her own. Nick’s eyes flick down to her lips and back up to meet her gaze. He gives his newly-cleaned lips a lick.

Whoever closes the short distance between them is entirely unclear. All he really remembers is suddenly kissing her fiercely, their lips crushing together at last. His arms whir to life, encircling her waist, and holding her against his chest as the kiss wears on. Nora sighs against his mouth, dropping the sponge, and lifting her hands to the collar of his shirt, trying to hold on for dear life. The taste of her lips is even sweeter than he could’ve possibly described, and he hardly dares to believe it. How could such a sweet thing exist in such a harsh world? It just isn’t _fair._

Nora parts her lips, a moan escapes her, and Nick presses his advantage. His synthetic tongue glides against hers, and he isn’t ashamed to admit it sparks just a little from the electric current coursing through him. She withdraws just a little, but this only makes him deepen the kiss, needing to taste as much of her as he can. He pivots, presses her back against the tree trunk, and his mouth meanders from her lips to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Her pleasured gasps and moans spur him on, and his hands yank her tucked shirt out from her trousers.

“Nick,” Nora whispers helplessly, arching against him as his undamaged hand slips beneath her shirt to caress the warm skin beneath.

Like a junkie trying to get a fix, Nick mindlessly touches her anywhere he can, while his mouth forges a trail down her throat to her collarbone. The pulses of positive feedback are flooding his system at a constant rate, and every breathy gasp stolen from her lips makes his knees feel weak with pleasure. The hand beneath her shirt pushes up the fabric, giving his mouth access to more of her freckled skin.

He can hardly believe she has _more_ than 29.

Wordlessly and as gracelessly as possible, the pair of them slide to the ground, Nick braced on hands and knees above her, one of his thighs between her own. His mouth moves across her skin, blazing trails into the unknown landscape dotted with freckles. He shoves the material of her bra up, revealing the hardened peaks beneath. He takes a nipple into his mouth, drawing his tongue around the stiff bud until she writhes. Nora can only moan, helpless against his onslaught, and it isn’t long before Nick finds himself at the waistband of her trousers. His eyes flick up to her face. Cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, lips parted, chest heaving -- she’s never looked more gorgeous.

“Please don’t stop,” Nora begs, lifting her hips just a little to encourage him.

All too happy to continue, Nick unbuttons her trousers and yanks them down, panties included. Around her knees they bunch, and he resumes his trail, feverishly kissing his way past her navel towards the mass of dark curls between her legs. Each sound that escapes her sets his circuits sparking with pleasure. Each movement of her hips against his mouth makes him crave _more_. He nudges her knees as far apart as the trousers allow and eagerly leans in to give her a taste. His tongue swipes from bottom to top, slow and hot, savoring her.

She gasps. She moans. She cries out. She practically shouts his name. Nick commits every sound, every movement, to his memory, his glowing eyes trained on her face as she writhes. Where this knowledge of exactly what to do to please her is coming from, he hasn’t a clue. But he uses it to his advantage. His tongue works her molten slickness while his undamaged thumb flicks across her clit, and her hips buck desperately against his mouth.

“Nick, I’m -- I’m almost there, _please_ ,” Nora whines at long last, her hands blindly seeking his head, trying desperately to hold him in place. As if he would stop now.

All at once, Nora’s thighs tense, she cries out his name, and arches off the ground. Nick has to wrap an arm around her hips to hold her in place as he continues, merciless. Once more she comes undone at his hands, fingers scrabbling at his scalp, mouth open wide and silent, before he finally relents. As he sits up, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and watches Nora pull up her trousers. Her cheeks are red and he immediately feels as if he’s crossed some invisible line. Done something unforgivable.

“Something wrong?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her neck and jaw.

“...No,” Nora murmurs, soft and low. Her fingers trail up from his exposed navel to touch his chin with her fingertips. “Not at all.”

“You’re blushing, doll,” Nick points out, lifting his head to look at her, frowning.

“Humans are funny things,” she replies. “Intimacy can sometimes -- “ he cuts her off with a kiss, unable to resist the fullness of her red lips. When he withdraws, she opens her eyes slowly, as if from a dream. “Sometimes… bring out insecurities.”

Nick furrows his brow, before settling on the grass behind her, his chest pressed against her back. He softly kisses her shoulder, and his arm drapes over her midsection, holding her close. “No need for those around me, doll.”

“...Thanks, Nicky.”


End file.
